The Fragments
by StoneByrd
Summary: One-shots and bonus bits to go along with their main fanfiction, "Whisper". Fluff, angst, plot! We've got it all. (Cover art is mine)
1. The Legend of Maat Zmey

**Alrightie, folks! If you're reading this and have no idea what Whisper is, I would strongly suggest that you go check out my fanfiction. You will not know any of these characters otherwise.**

 **If you're here because you read Whisper, prepare! In this story, I will be posting extra behind-the-scenes from Whisper. The scenes that didn't make it into the book itself, bonus information, the like. Some... ahem... *Fragments* of Whisper.**

 **Let's start with the legend of Maat Zmey, shall we?**

* * *

The Legend of Maat Zmey

* * *

There truly was no place like home.

Dobryak entered through the garage door. The warmth of the kitchen stung his windblown, frosty face. His eyelashes were so thick with snow that it took several blinks for it all to melt, streaming into his eyes.

He was exhausted. Drenched to the bone and aching all over.

He crept inside and shut the door softly, dreading every rustle of fabric and creak of wood. He glanced at the neon clock over the stove.

Nearly midnight.

Excursions to Down were becoming longer and longer.

He set the _Julien's_ box of cupcakes on the table, undoing his winter layers. Scarf, coat, sweater, hat, boots, and wet socks were all removed as quietly as possible.

Then he stripped off the faithful Shauto gloves, stuck to his arms, wet from cold and sweat.

Dobryak muffled a relieved sigh.

No sooner than he'd set foot off the welcome mat, little December in a frilly blue dress and a pair of kitty ears catapulted through the kitchen and into her papa's arms.

"Papa Papa Papa! Guess whaaaaaat!"

Winded, it was only by reflex that Dobryak remembered to hug her.

"December, _malyshka_? Why aren't you in bed?"

But December drew back with a squeal. "Ewww, Papa! You're all _wet_!"

His daughter's face was a meticulous masterpiece of a cat nose and whiskers, faded from hours of play, smeared from burying her face in her father's wet clothes. Her beam was that of a creature awoken by a sugar high.

Dobryak groaned.

"Papa guess _what_!" December boinged up and down. Her dress boinged with her. "I'm seven now! It's midnight! And midnight is morning-time! So I'm seven!"

"Happy birthday, _milaya_." Dobryak somehow found strength to gather December, along with her extensive skirts, into his arms. He kissed her forehead. "You naughty girl."

December burbled a laugh, not in the least bit repentant.

"Now where's your brother?"

"Downstairs."

Dobryak carried her that way. "He didn't put you to bed?"

"He did." December's giggling was hysteric at this hour. "But I got up."

"Of course you did."

Dobryak set her down in front of the stairwell. He could already hear the TV, chattering eight-bit battle beats. It only took coming to the bottom of the staircase to find Gahiji camped two feet from the bright screen, playing the eighth Rise of Vachirka. Still in his school uniform, homework and textbooks stacked on the futon, an empty bag of chips (presumably dinner) crumpled beside the trash can.

Dobryak waved. But Gahiji couldn't have even spotted Dobryak in his peripheral - the screen took up his entire field of vision.

"Gahiji," Dobryak called softly.

Gahiji started. Then he turned, giving his father a pursed look.

Dobryak leaned on the stair railing, fighting sympathy.

"Gahiji."

" _Zdravstvuy_ ," Gahiji greeted flatly.

"Save and quit, alright?"

Gahiji's scowl deepened to an impressively teenage level. Then it straightened. " _Da_."

With that confirmation, Dobryak turned to head back upstairs. He found that December had followed him halfway down.

"Come on, December," he said, shooing her gently. "Let's get to bed."

December eyed the TV reproachfully. "What about Gahiji?"

"He'll go to bed, too."

"But he's playing Vachirka."

"He's saving. He'll go to bed after I put you in bed."

"How _long_ after?"

"December."

Dobryak couldn't manage a firm tone of voice, but December was tired, too. Usually she could keep up an argument until she got her way (out of sheer pestering), but sugar highs could only last so long.

Dobryak took her hand and led her upstairs. "Come on, _malyshka_. Let's clean you up."

He helped her out of the dress and into her Daffi Dale pajamas. A warm rag mopped up the last of her nose and whiskers. Her long hair was brushed silky-smooth before he carried her to bed.

"No," she said, when he tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. "No, Papa, my kitty ears."

"You can't sleep with your kitty ears on."

"Yes I can," she said.

Dobryak didn't argue further. He retrieved the kitty ears from the bathroom and slipped them over her head. "There. Nice and snug."

She giggled. Yawned.

"You are _so_ tired." Dobryak turned on her lamp. " _Dobroy nochi_. Goodnight."

"Maat Zmey," she pleaded, her eyes snapping wide open. Dobryak cringed; she was not _quite_ as sleepy as he had wished.

" _Nyet_ , baby. It is hours and hours past your bedtime."

"I can't sleep!" she protested. "Maat Zmey! Pleeease! It'll help me go to sleep. You always say so."

Dobryak groaned inwardly. He was so fried, he wasn't sure he could manage the legend even if he wanted to. "There's no time tonight. I'm sorry."

"Maat Zmeeeeey." December sat up in bed. "Pretty please?"

Dobryak's moan really did manifest, if quietly. December felt her papa caving, and bounced the mattress.

"It's pretty! It's a pretty please with bows and ribbons and my princess dress and kitty ears -!"

" _Da, da, da,_ " Dobryak said, sinking to his knees beside her. "Maat Zmey. But only because it's your birthday, _ozornaya devushka._ You naughty girl."

And he never had enough time to give his children. He softened.

If midnight was all he could manage, so be it.

"Thank you, Papa!" She cuddled into her pink quilt until only her nose, eyes, and kitty ears peeked out from under the covers.

Dobryak smiled despite himself. The sweet thing.

He situated himself against the dresser, regarding the ceiling as he mulled over the details of the legend.

Then he caught December's eye.

Hers squeezed shut with a grin hidden under the quilt.

Dobryak smiled, too.

"Long before time had a name..."

As weary as Dobryak was, the tale he had fed off of his whole life - the legend of Maat Zmey - it fueled him. It always did. There was always a new way to spin it, a new aesthetic to weave, in the way of his fathers. The storytellers of Vinvaara.

He saw Gahiji, his arrival as owlish as the quality of his silver gaze, lean against the doorway to listen.

"NinjaGo was created by the hero Amidarius.

"He created the sky. The sea. The land. He fashioned NinjaGo from the dust of a dying star. With the power of Spinjitzu, order and balance was established on our planet."

December closed her eyes to imagine. If Dobryak had looked at Gahiji, he would have seen him doing the same.

"He created this people, living among them as a leader and father. It was a time of life, prosperity, and light."

Dobryak closed his eyes, too.

"But where there is light, there must also be shadow."

December's little paws gripped the edge of her quilt a little tighter; a reaction not dulled by all the times she had ever heard the story.

"Now at this time of peace, a star goddess descended from the heavens. She took the form of a great white snake."

"Huge as a mountain," December interjected, popping up from under the covers. "As beautiful as she was big!"

"Crowned with the feathers of the cosmos," Gahiji added quietly.

"She was a queen," Dobryak agreed. "A warrior queen, wise and powerful.

"Her name was Maat Zmey."

December sank back under the quilt, eyes shut again to take in the goddess' beauty.

"Maat Zmey had watched Amidarius as he created NinjaGo. She had seen him bring life out of the depths of death.

"But she had also seen what Amidarius hadn't - the darkness that was growing in the planet's core."

Dobryak paused.

"Uzhaznyei."

A chill swept down his own spine. December must have felt one, too, because her brow furrowed where she lay.

"A black being, called terrible, keeper of shadows and their magicks. Uzhaznyei would not rest until Amidarius was dead, and NinjaGo rested in his own claws. He sought to rule this world, and Maat Zmey had come to warn Amidarius of those intentions."

Gahiji leaned forward.

"Amidarius took heed of her warning. He gathered and trained an army of Elemental Masters to defend NinjaGo. Years passed before Uzhaznyei attacked, during which time, the Elemental Masters learned the secrets of fighting with Spinjitzu.

"However, in the preparations for war, Maat Zmey made a crucial mistake."

December and Gahiji hung on every word. They had memorized the length of every pause, knew by heart the way their father's voice would reverently bear the glossy threads of story - and yet both of them were breathless.

"She fell in love with a man."

December inhaled at last.

"The Elemental Master of Fire, called Raine. He had fashioned the sword Kamenzmeya from the stars with the power of his Element. They loved each other dearly."

His daughter shifted, uneasy. Gahiji looked troubled, too.

"Then Uzhaznyei attacked.

"The Elemental Masters fought bravely, but it wasn't enough. Uzhaznyei's power was unmatched, and they suffered terrible loss.

"To defend the people of NinjaGo, Maat Zmey created the Kaamen, an army of indestructible white warriors, in the stead of the dying Masters. These fought Uzhaznyei to the break point."

A pause.

Dobryak had heard so many different tellings of the legend. He had heard so many reasons, so many thoughts and questions as to why Raine did what he did.

But the answer was lost to time.

So he told it the best he knew how.

"But meanwhile, the Master of Fire, Raine, began to lose himself in his own power. He became corrupted. Fire consumed him, and he became dark.

"Uzhaznyei enlisted him in his army and taught him the forbidden shadow magics. Raine shared with him the means of creating twisted, evil versions of Maat Zmey's Kaamen - and by Raine's treachery, Uzhaznyei created the _Zlyye Dukhi_.

"The Stone Army."

A breath.

And it was clear that December had fallen asleep.

Dobryak almost didn't go on. He started to get up.

Then he saw Gahiji, sunk to his knees at the doorway.

Watching his father. Thirsting to understand why it had happened, so sick with the hunger to sympathize that he couldn't breathe.

Dobryak looked away.

"Maat Zmey was devastated by Raine's betrayal. In her despair, she called her brother from the stars, to aid them.

"Pythios, the Devourer."

Gahiji fell lower. He leaned against the doorframe, clutching his arms, but his eyes were steady on Dobryak.

"Pythios was a god of space. His scales shimmered invisible, striking like light itself. And his stomach was vastly empty - always empty. Only this maw of unending space could hinder the Stone Army.

"And it was as Pythios cleared the way that Maat Zmey was forced to fight and kill her beloved. Raine died lying against her feathered crown, whispering apologies and his own burnt love for her."

Gahiji's gaze faltered. His eyes dropped to the floor.

"In the wake of Raine's death, Amidarius seized his sword - the sword Kamenzmeya - and pierced Uzhaznyei's eye. Wounded, outnumbered, and on the brink of death, Uzhaznyei vanished to preserve his life.

"The war was over."

Gahiji released a breath.

"Maat Zmey was grieved by the loss of her love. But Uzhaznyei was not dead, and shadows still lurked across NinjaGo. Amidarius passed long ago, but Maat Zmey still watches. She watches over us, ready to aid the next Spinjitzu Master, when Uzhaznyei will return."

One last pause.

December was out like trout. Faint little snores sounded through the silence.

"Why end there?" Gahiji said at last.

He never failed to ask.

Dobryak smoothed December's covers, tucking them tighter. "Because the rest isn't told yet."

"It's a stupid place to end," Gahiji said.

"I trust that Uzhaznyei will someday return. You can trust him not to give up."

"It's a legend from long ago. He's not _real_. And he's not coming back."

"Uzhaznyei has three eyes," Dobryak pointed out. "Only one of them is wounded."

"If he were to come back - _if_ he existed at _all_ \- then he should have come back centuries ago."

If only Gahiji understood how real this threat was.

Dobryak stood and stretched. "Uzhaznyei is patient. He will bide his time."

"And meanwhile?"

Dobryak regarded Gahiji for a moment.

The boy's eyes were ever solemn.

"Meanwhile," Dobryak said, approaching him, " _You_ have school in the morning and a birthday party for your _sestra_ in the evening."

Gahiji gave him a dry look.

Dobryak smiled. He extended his hand to Gahiji. "Come now. You can't live in stories."

"Why not?" Gahiji said.

"Mm. How about you write one?"

"I'm a horrid writer."

"That's not what I meant, _malysh_."

Gahiji took his hand and stood up. "I knew that," he said sincerely.

Dobryak swept Gahiji's bangs back. "Get some sleep, child. Really. Don't go into your room and play your phone."

" _Da_ , Papa."

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

" _Nyet_."

"I mean it. No phone."

" _Da_." Gahiji turned on one heel and strode down the hall towards the basement.

"Where are you going?" Dobryak demanded.

"My phone is downstairs."

"You," Dobryak said, coming to the stairwell as Gahiji descended the flight. He jabbed a finger down at his son. " _You_."

Gahiji came back up with his schoolbooks, homework, his phone, and a smirk.

" _Dobroy nochi_ , Gahiji."

His grin took on a warmer quality. " _Dobroy nochi_."

Dobryak kissed Gahiji's forehead. " _Ya lyublyu tebya._ "

" _Konechno_ , Papa. There's hot water on the stove."

It was all Dobryak could do to suppress a sigh of relief.

" _Spasibo_ , Gahiji. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Gahiji's mouth twitched. He finally waved and disappeared into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.


	2. Am I S'posed Ta?

**A/N: Surprise! I have an update. Enjoyyy~**

 **What, you're wondering about the nature of this oneshot? ... It makes me feel young. Deal with it.**

* * *

Am I S'posed ta?

* * *

Takes place in the Hidein Compound, sometime around Whisper chapters 49-51. No definite time slot.

* * *

"Okay, but where are we going, _now_?" J'avi asked, trailing down the hall behind Soren.

"It's twelve o'clock in the morning. Where do you _think_ we're going?"

J'avi regarded the back of Soren's head as they went. "You want me to guess?"

"Maybe you should think for once, mm?"

He ignored the insult. "Fine, I'll guess."

Soren exhaled. "That's not what I—"

"Are you taking me to check on the prisoners?"

"No."

"Are we... maybe... going on a walk?"

"J'avi, shut up."

"Are we gonna play Moponoly?"

Soren halted suddenly and turned to face J'avi, his eyes narrowed, eyebrows high. "Monopoly, idiot," he corrected. "We're going to _bed_."

"Ohhh." J'avi laughed. "Well you coulda just _said_ so."

Soren swept the door open with a deliberate, mock-courteous nod.

"You're sure mad about it," J'avi observed.

"I can't imagine why," Soren said through clenched teeth.

J'avi entered the bedroom. And stopped short.

"Woah-ho- _ho_..."

His gaze swept from one end to the other, drinking in the glossed mahogany dresser. The wide, beautifully dressed four-poster bed. The tidy desk and swivel chair against the wall beside him. The concise bookshelf full of assorted leather-bound tomes. It all smelled faintly of lavender and cigarette smoke.

Velvety, pale carpet squished beneath his toes. J'avi crouched down to feel it with his fingers, fascinated. Then he collapsed to his back, spreading his arms and legs like a child in snow heaven.

He began rolling around on the floor, laughing helplessly.

Soren entered behind him, undoing his cloak as he shut the door. He cast J'avi a look of mild disgust.

J'avi rolled up against the bed. He stared at the overhanging plum covers for a moment, before scrambling to his feet to get a proper look. The bed looked to be made out of violet glass, at first. He smoothed his hands over the silken fabric, relishing its unnatural, glossy, polished plush.

"Wow," he breathed, fluffing one of the many decorative pillows. He was delighted to find the pillow just as satin as the blankets. "This stuff is like... grape fluff."

Then he bounced onto the bed and sprawled across it, sinking into the luxurious duvet.

He gave a long, contented sigh. "Damn."

"Get off my bed." Soren hung up his cloak beside the door, then leaned down to unzip his boots.

J'avi sat up in the bed, his eyes growing huge. "Wait! This is _your_ room?"

Soren stepped out of his boots. "Whose did you think it was?"

J'avi watched in fascination; he couldn't help but notice how short Soren was, without his boots. "A guest bedroom?"

"We don't have guest bedrooms."

"What? Really? In the whole _Compound_?"

"Believe it or not." Soren yanked his socks vehemently off.

"But I thought Father would at least have set up a room for _me_."

"You would _think_ , wouldn't you."

J'avi frowned. "Wait, so that means I have to sleep in here? With you?"

Soren closed his eyes, his entire frame sagging. "That's pretty much what it means."

"But I don't _want_ to," J'avi fretted.

"Really? That works out perfectly. Me neither."

"How about I just sleep with Eboni?" J'avi asked.

"How about you sleep outside?" Soren replied hotly.

J'avi shut his mouth and narrowed his eyes.

But Soren ignored the glare, shoving his boots beneath his hanging cloak and disappearing into his closet. "Get off my bed."

"But where will _I_ sleep?" J'avi protested.

"Not with me."

J'avi leaned to peer into the closet, gaping. "Wait—you have a _walk-in closet_?" he demanded.

Soren sighed. "Yes. I do."

"What are you doing?"

Soren's head popped back around the doorway, miffed. "Changing," he said, and shut the closet door.

J'avi stared after him.

"Changing?" he repeated.

He flopped backwards onto the bed again, tucking his hands behind his head, furrowing his brow. "Changing," he said with a huff. "... chaaainnn- _jing_. What does that mean?"

Of course, he knew what it meant. But now he was confused. What would Soren be changing into?

J'avi contemplated for a moment. "To _change_ is to... uh."

He sat up again, gazing hard at the bookshelf. Then he hopped off the bed.

"C'mon," he said, thumbing past the huge books. "One of these has _got_ to be a dictionary."

He found it, one of the thinnest volumes. "Aha."

Snuggling back into Soren's bed, he opened the book and perused through it until he found the ch's.

"'Definition of change. One: to make or become different'," J'avi read, muttering to himself. "As in, 'a proposal to change the law'. ... Two: take or use another instead of, as in 'she decided to change her name'. Change is a verb."

He narrowed his eyes. Yeah, it made sense, for the most part, but...

"What's a _verb_?"

So J'avi looked that up, too. "Definition of verb'." He read the rest to himself, his mouth moving as he read, but no sounds coming out.

J'avi closed the dictionary and stared up at the ceiling.

"Soren is... _changing_... huh...?"

He tilted his head to look at the closet door. From where he lay on the bed, it was sideways.

 _What will he be when he comes out?_ J'avi wondered.

Now intrigued, he sat up, waiting impatiently for Soren to reappear.

When he finally came back, J'avi was disappointed to find Soren the same, only wearing different clothes.

"I thought you said you were changing," J'avi accused.

Soren glared at him for a moment. Then his eyebrow quirked. "I did change."

A pause. J'avi squinted at him again, finding the same dark hair, paper-white skin, slender cheekbones. Even his height was the same.

But he was staring at J'avi like he was a stupendous idiot.

"Oh," J'avi said, stuffing the dictionary inconspicuously under one of the pillows.

Soren growled and made a shooing motion with his hand. "For the last time. Get off."

"But I don't have anywhere else to sleep!" J'avi said, then yelped as Soren shoved him off the bed. His gi slipped across the silk covers more effectively than J'avi had thought, and he landed on his rear with an "oof!" about four feet from the bed.

"Yeah, well, neither do I," Soren said, "and this is my bed."

J'avi whirled around. "But Soren!"

"You liked the floor before."

"But—not to _sleep_ on!"

"Why did you lay down on it, then?"

J'avi was seriously regretting that. "But I laid down on the bed, and it feels _way_ better than the floor! Please?"

Soren chucked a pillow at J'avi's head. J'avi caught it by reflex. "I have some extra blankets in my closet, you can sleep with those."

"But—!"

"I'm turning the lights out in five minutes."

"Why don't I get _my_ own room?" J'avi whined.

"You have until then to set up your sleeping spot."

"But Soren—"

"Look, you're not sleeping on my bed. This is where _I'm_ sleeping."

J'avi threw his arms wide. "We could _both_ sleep on it! It's big enough! It's big enough for three people, probably! Maybe even four! Or five!"

"That's pushing it."

"Please, Soren? I'll be quiet! I won't take all the covers!"

Soren raised one eyebrow.

"I'll _try_ not to take all the covers," J'avi amended. "It'll be hard, cuz they're super cushy grape cream, but I'll try."

"Really? You would do that, for me?" Soren imitated a touched manner.

"Oh, don't be such a—" J'avi cut himself off. Calling Soren a name would probably decrease his chances of sleeping on the bed. "Gah—come on, Sor, please?"

Soren just shook his head, skirting J'avi to enter the bathroom. "I'm going to ignore you."

J'avi opened his mouth, then closed it. He glared at the bathroom doorframe for a while, seething, then scrambled after him.

The bathroom was quite nice, too, painted pale blue with white marble surfaces. Soren was brushing his teeth when J'avi entered, and ignored his presence.

J'avi was about to plead some more, then caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink.

"Hey," he said, pointing, "that's me!"

Soren spat into the sink. "Imagine that."

J'avi inspected his reflection, combing his hair to one side with his fingers. "Hot damn," he said, leaning over Soren to bring his nose up to the mirror.

He got about five seconds of close-up examination before Soren tried to straighten and whacked right into J'avi's stomach, giving a muffled grunt.

" _J'avi_ ," he said, exhaling, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. J'avi stepped back as Soren rinsed his mouth out and left his toothbrush on the bathroom counter.

" _Please_ can I sleep in the bed with you?" J'avi said, grabbing Soren's arm and shaking him. "Please, please, please?"

"I'm turning the lights out in three minutes, now," Soren said, brushing J'avi off and leaving the bathroom.

"Please," J'avi said again, following Soren out, waving his arms contritely. "Can I please sleep with you? Please?"

"No. That sounds all kinds of wrong."

" _Please_..."

Soren approached his dresser, opening the top drawer. "Two minutes," he said.

J'avi moaned and slumped against the side of the bed.

Soren scoffed. "Oh, don't _cry_ , that's pathetic."

"I'm not crying," J'avi snapped. "I'm whining."

"My mistake."

"Please," J'avi said miserably, gazing at Soren as he unscrewed the lid of a small can.

He watched for a moment.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he said, sitting up.

"Feeding Tucker."

J'avi struggled to his feet and ran to Soren's dresser to get a better look.

There was a large glass bowl-tank full of water, pink pebbles in the bottom, and a tiny, frilly orange creature swimming in circles around the bowl. J'avi gasped.

"Is that a Tucker?"

Soren paused. "A goldfish."

"A _goldfish_?" J'avi repeated, eyes wide as he lowered to a level with the little shimmering fish. "Wow. It's so pretty..."

Soren stared at the young Fragment. "Spinjitzu Master. You _really_ don't know what a goldfish is?"

"But you just called it a Tucker."

"... Tucker is his _name_ , J'avi."

"Wait—how is it breathing?"

J'avi tapped the glass lightly with his index finger, and in a flash, Tucker the goldfish was on the other side of the bowl, his little mouth bubbling open and closed. J'avi jumped at the sudden movement.

"He's a fish," Soren said. "They _live_ in water."

Soren nudged J'avi over and tipped the jar of fish food over the edge of the bowl, tapping a few times. J'avi watched colorful flakes spread out over the surface of the water with each tap.

"What _is_ that?" he said.

"Fish food."

J'avi opened his mouth, thoroughly offended, as the little fish floated to the surface to peck the flakes. "That's what he eats? That's _disgusting_!"

Soren rolled his eyes and screwed the lid back on the can. "Yeah, well, Tucker likes it."

J'avi shifted his angle, watching the reflections in the water change as he moved. "What does it do?"

Soren replaced the can of fish food in his top drawer. "He swims."

"That's it?" J'avi frowned at the goldfish.

"He sleeps, too."

"What a stupid pet," J'avi decided, watching Tucker continue to pluck red, yellow and purple flakes from the surface. "... Hey, Soren. If I stuck my finger in there, would he eat it?"

Soren glanced at him. "No."

"Can I try it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Just—don't."

J'avi narrowed his eyes at the fish. "You're stupid," he informed it. "I can't even pet you. All I can do is look at you."

Tucker's cute mouth bobbed open and shut, treading water casually with his golden fins, huge eyes blinking up at J'avi.

J'avi gave a lopsided grimace. "It's a good thing you're pretty, then, huh?"

Soren left the dresser. "I'm turning the light out."

J'avi remembered his predicament and abandoned Tucker, giving a shout of protest. "Nonononono, wait! Please! Can I please sleep in your bed with you?"

"No, J'avi. Good night."

"I don't wanna sleep on the floor! Soooorrrreeen!" J'avi caught hold of Soren's arm and hung from it, making Soren stumble.

Soren's brow twitched. "You're kidding, right?"

"Pleeeeaase, Soren! I'll be cold! I'll be lonely!" J'avi clung to Soren staunchly, refusing to let him make it to the lightswitch. "Please, Soren, I'll be so quiet!"

"Are you throwing a fit like a two year old?"

A split second's silence as Soren registered that J'avi was, technically, only two _days_ old.

"Sooorrreeeeeen," J'avi moaned again, wrapping his arms around Soren's legs when the older Fragment tried to worm out of J'avi's grip.

"Get off," Soren snapped, grabbing the top of J'avi's head and shoving downwards, prying J'avi away from him. J'avi's grip slipped from around both legs, but he caught on to one calf and held on for dear life, whining into Soren's pants.

"FSM!" Soren said hoarsely. "You are _insufferable_!"

"Pleeeease," J'avi begged, voice muffled in Soren's pajamas. "Pleeeease..."

"Fine!" Soren huffed and pushed on J'avi harder. "Get off and shut up, and you can sleep in the bed with me."

J'avi lifted his head and gazed up at Soren. _What a weird feeling,_ he reflected. "You mean it?" he said.

"I mean it. Now _get off_."

J'avi got to his feet, then threw his arms around Soren, knocking the air from the older Fragment. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Don't touch me," Soren said, throwing him off with a huff. "Just be quiet, alright?"

"Alright!"

J'avi bounded to the bed and threw back the covers, grinning triumphantly as he slid under the blankets and pulled them back over himself.

Soren stared at him.

"What?" J'avi whispered. "I'm being quiet!"

"You're sleeping in that?" Soren said.

"In what? The bed? Of course I am."

"No, in your clothes."

"Well, _yeah_ , I'm sleeping with clothes on. Don't tell me _you're_ not?"

Soren looked about ready to slap himself in the face. "No—those are—gah. Don't you wear pajamas?"

J'avi blinked. "Am I s'posed to?"

Soren leaned up against the wall and hung his head. "Yes," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, usually, you sleep in pajamas."

"Oh. Well, I don't have any."

"You'll probably fit a pair of mine."

Soren, rubbing his temples, went back into the closet. While he collected clothes for J'avi, the younger Fragment realized he would have to change clothes, and became depressed.

"Here." Soren came out with a shirt and pants draped across one arm. "You can change in the closet or in the bathroom."

"Change?—Oh! Change _clothes_!" He knocked himself in the head. "That makes _so_ much more sense now. I can just change right here."

J'avi stripped off his shirt and pants, balling them up and tossing them past Soren, who backed up just in time to avoid them, annoyed.

"You're cleaning those up," Soren said.

"Yeah, yeah." J'avi poked his head through the top of the shirt. "Oooh! This is comfy."

Soren walked around J'avi's discarded outfit and stood by the lightswitch, waiting for J'avi to tug the pajama pants on. J'avi tied the pants at the waist, noticing about six inches of exposed ankle.

"Is that how much taller I am than you?" he inquired, pointing.

Soren's brow twitched, and the lights went out.

J'avi slid under the covers with a moan of delight. He had never thought he could be so enveloped in softness; it was so soft that he almost couldn't find a comfy spot. It took him a long while, but finally, he found a suitably cushy spot and snuggled into it, sighing.

The cushy spot shoved him. "Don't touch me," Soren growled.

"Alright, sorry," J'avi huffed.

He squirmed around some more, trying to find another cushy spot—one that wasn't his brother.

"Don't _touch_ me," Soren repeated, when J'avi found what he had thought was a Soren-free cushy spot.

"Sorry! You're just so cuddly!"

"Spinjitzu _Master_ , J'avi. Just stay on that side of the bed."

"Fine."

Another silence.

"Stop moving," Soren said.

J'avi stopped indignantly. "I'm not!"

"Yes you are."

"All I'm doing is _breathing_!"

"Then stop breathing."

"... You're not a very nice brother, you know that?"

"Shut your entire face."

J'avi tried his best not to breathe, just to make Soren happy.

It proved difficult, and he stopped trying after ten seconds.

"Hey, Soren?" he whispered.

"What," came the dark reply.

"Can I feed your Tucker tomorrow?"

"It's not _my_ Tucker." Soren sounded exasperated.

"Well, can I feed it?"

"Maybe."

"Please?"

"First _Spinjitzu_... go to bed, J'avi."

"I am in bed."

"That means _shut up_."

"I won't shut up until you say—"

" _Fine_ , J'avi, you can feed the stupid Tucker. I'm trying to sleep."

"... He's a goldfish, Soren."

Soren mumbled something and rolled over in bed. This tugged on J'avi's side of the blankets.

"Hey! You're taking my side!" J'avi protested.

"I don't care."

J'avi jerked on the blanket, forcing Soren to either relent the covers or roll backwards and into J'avi. Soren did not let go of the duvet, so their foreheads thudded together with a sharp, painful _thud_.

" _J'avi_!" Soren hissed, bringing a hand to his head, gasping.

"It's your fault!" J'avi snapped back, dizzy. He took the opportunity to yank the blankets away from Soren. "If you'da just let me have some _stupid_ blanket—!"

Soren tugged on the covers. J'avi tugged harder. They each pulled, growling, to no avail.

J'avi stuck his index finger in his mouth, sucked on it until it was good and wet, then jammed it into Soren's ear.

As expected, Soren reeled back with a yelp. J'avi took the blankets and cuddled into them before his older brother could recover.

Soren stilled. J'avi couldn't see him in the darkness, but the rustling silk sounds stopped, so he supposed Soren had given up.

Then something thudded hard against the top of J'avi's head.

J'avi gasped. Ears ringing, he reached up to grab whatever had nailed him. His hands closed around the leather dictionary.

Then he felt the covers ripped off of him.

"Why-you-little—"

He tried to turn the dictionary onto Soren, but the older Fragment parried with a pillow to the face. J'avi hadn't expected the bundle of cloth to deliver such a solid thwack—Soren snatched the dictionary and shoved J'avi back down in bed.

"Look, here." Soren threw one edge of the blanket over top of J'avi, muffling him. "You get that half. I get this half. No pulling, tucking it under, or wrapping." After a pause, he added, "or cuddling."

J'avi popped out from under the blanket, scowling. "But I _like_ cuddling," he said.

" _No cuddling_ ," Soren repeated.

"Not even a little bit?"

"None. Lay down, J'avi, and lay _still_."

J'avi huffed. Then he obeyed, his head still aching from the blows dealt.

He fidgeted.

 _... But I like cuddling._

He heard Soren's breathing grow deep and slow across the bed from him. It was a mark of just how tired Soren was, that he could fall asleep within two minutes of silence.

J'avi wondered if he could cuddle Soren when he was asleep.

He wondered if Soren was a light sleeper—or if he snored. He waited to see, but Soren's breath stayed even.

So J'avi cuddled him.

Soren was truly, deeply asleep. J'avi snuggled into him triumphantly. Then relaxed. For such a jerkish pipsqueak, Soren sure was cozy, and J'avi could finally sleep.

It was about a half hour later, when J'avi had managed to wrap his arms around Soren, that the older Fragment woke up.

And groaned.

"That's it."

Soren shoved J'avi off, shed his side of the blanket, and got out of bed.

J'avi blinked, groggy and confused. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to sleep on the floor."

Soren snagged his pillow from the bed, thrust his extra blankets down on the floor next to the bed, and flopped down into them, grumbling.

Meanwhile, J'avi pulled, tucked, wrapped, and cuddled the blanket and remaining pillow on Soren's luscious four-poster bed, too sleepy to care that his cuddle-ee was gone.

"I just decided," J'avi said, his voice slurred with weariness. "You suck. Big time."

"Go to hell," Soren replied.

But J'avi fell asleep.


	3. Cupcake Oneshot

**A/N: Hello all! I am alive and I have a oneshot to share with you! :D**

 **So this** **oneshot has actually been floating between Astrid16 and I since my birthday in February. She came up with the idea and wrote the majority of this oneshot! We've edited it together, and I have her permission to post it here in The Fragments, as part of Whisper canon.**

 **I sure hope you've read through ALL of Whisper by the time you guys read this oneshot! It contains major spoilers for parts of the ending.**

 **Please enjoy! :3**

* * *

[Lloyd and Zane both left. Zane comes back to the team after a few weeks, his soul finally at rest, ready to take on the next threat alongside his teammates.

But Lloyd remains unsettled. He stays separate from the Ninja team for a long time, trying to find himself... the _real_ Lloyd, stripped of Shauto, stripped of his supposed "Elemental powers"—deprived of everything that he believed he was...

He does periodically visit, of course.]

* * *

Cupcake Oneshot

* * *

The sign above the shop read _Julien's_. Through the window, a handful of customers could be seen sitting at tables near the large front window, chatting over drinks and cupcakes. Large letters on the window read _Grand Re-Opening_ in blue paint.

Lloyd gazed up at the sign.

Then he adjusted his knapsack strap, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

A bell jangled as he pushed the door open; sweet, warm smells accosted his senses, and he closed his eyes, taking another full inhale. Ohh, it had been _too_ long since the last time he'd been here.

Of course, baked goods were not the reason he was here. But _that_ was no reason to waste this opportunity... Lloyd trotted eagerly to the display case where dozens of cupcakes sat on shiny silver trays on the racks.

Yellow cupcakes topped with fresh sliced strawberries. Chocolate cupcakes swirled with light and dark brown frosting—the label for that one read _Chocolate and Caramel_. Other labels proudly declared their goods: german chocolate, cookies and cream, lemon, white cake with buttercream...

"Aww, get outta here!" Lloyd gasped, pressing a hand to the glass. He stared at a dark cupcake with rich, deep purple frosting swirled with pink and blue, topped with little white star-shaped sprinkles and shiny silver sugar pearls.

"Cool, isn't it?" asked a familiar voice.

Lloyd straightened, looking over the case at the teenager. He sported bubblegum-pink hair, multiple ear piercings, and a thick, black leather wristband that read Emberflower on his left wrist.

"It's my own special creation," he said. "Gahiji about had a seizure when I made the first batch last weekend. And this one..." He tapped the glass behind a cupcake with a lime garnish. "It's got _cheesecake_ filling. Uh-huh." He smirked at Lloyd's astonished expression.

"Can I have them all?" the former Shauto Master asked in a small voice.

Azamat laughed, crossing his arms over his pale yellow apron. "It's good to see you, man," he said. "It's been, what, two months since you last returned to the land of the living?"

"About," Lloyd confirmed meekly, scratching his head.

"And you _still_ haven't cut your hair," Azamat said, shaking his head in mock sadness at Lloyd's shoulder-length blonde waves.

Lloyd ignored the jab. "Sorry I didn't visit sooner." He gestured to the walls. "The place looks great."

Azamat's face fell. "Still don't know when you're coming back, huh?"

Lloyd shook his head.

There was a quiet moment. Then Lloyd sighed.

"Which one do you recommend?" he asked, drawing their attention back to the baked goods.

"Heh." Azamat pointed at the chocolate caramel cupcake. "Just depends on what you're in the mood for. That one's pretty rich. But if you want something with more subtle flavors, that strawberry one is great. It's got some strawberry jam hiding under the frosting, too." He winked. "If you can't make up your mind, feel free to get a couple different flavors."

"Don't tempt me, Azamat."

As Lloyd scrutinized the shelves, another customer entered the shop and walked right up to the counter, ordering the strawberry cupcake. As Azamat rang her up, he engaged her in some friendly conversation that made Lloyd think she might be a regular customer. She left a few minutes later, and Azamat leaned against the counter, absently drumming his fingers to the beat of an Amid pop song playing on the radio.

At last, Lloyd fished into his pocket for some cash. "Alright," he said. "You broke me. I'll get the german chocolate and that... that crazy galaxy cupcake."

"Okay—whaaat are you doing? Naw, put your money away, s'on the house."

"But—"

"Nope."

Lloyd eyed him, but Azamat only glared back good-naturedly.

"For here or to go?" Azamat finally asked.

"Ehh…"

Lloyd sensed the double-meaning behind his friend's words. He hadn't planned on staying long, but Azamat's expression made him change his mind.

"Why not. I'll eat here."

Azamat's face brightened.

He slid a glass plate across the counter and opened the case, selecting the two cupcakes and pushing the plate across to Lloyd.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing down the counter towards the barstools. Lloyd took a seat, and Azamat leaned up against the espresso machine across from him.

Lloyd rotated his plate, admiring the two cupcakes.

The galaxy cupcake looked too amazing to eat. So Lloyd undid the wrapper on the german chocolate, broke off the bottom half of the cupcake, and smashed it onto the top.

"What are you doing?" Azamat asked as Lloyd surveyed his work.

"Making a cupcake sammich," he explained. "You've never done this before?"

Azamat shook his head, bewildered. "... 'Sammich'?"

"It's the _only_ way to eat a cupcake," Lloyd smirked. "Cake, frosting, cake. Sammich. It changes the flavor, I kid you not."

"It's beautiful," Azamat breathed, unable to take his eyes away as Lloyd sank his teeth into the cupcake.

"Mmm…" Lloyd exhaled through his nose as he chewed. He swallowed, then gestured to the other cupcake. "Hey, you try it."

"What, me?" Azamat looked at the galaxy monstrosity. "Naww, these are yours!"

"Oh, whatever. Go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Azamat."

Azamat hesitated a moment longer. But he very carefully rearranged the cupcake's layers, his eyes bright and eager. Deep violet frosting squished out between the two chunks of thick, dark chocolate cake, and a couple sprinkles _plink_ ed onto the plate.

Lloyd couldn't help but grin as Azamat bit desperately into the cupcake. He came away with a mouth rimmed periwinkle.

"Wow!" he hummed, still chewing. "You're right. It's totally different."

Lloyd chuckled. "It's good, huh?"

"I am never eating a plain cupcake again." Azamat took another bite, his eyes lifted heavenwards. "Oh, _man_."

Shaking his head in amusement, Lloyd resumed eating his own cupcake. Rich chocolate and coconut frosting between two gobs of sweet, moist, fluffy cake.

It had been far too long since the last time he'd had a cupcake. Or any kind of cake for that matter. Not since before…

Lloyd's throat dried up, and it took a couple tries to get the bite down his throat. He stared at the dessert in his hands for a moment, then, with a small sigh, set it back on the plate.

 _FSM,_ he swore, looking away from Azamat's puzzled gaze. _I only knew her for, what, a week and a half? It's been six months now._

 _Why can't I get over it?_

Lloyd had seen and done many strange and mysterious things during his time as a Ninja. But, as time wore on, one of the strangest—and most mysterious—things he'd ever learned was that some people, no matter how short a time they spent in his life, could leave lasting imprints on his soul.

"You don't like it?" Azamat asked, setting the galaxy cupcake down and wiping his mouth on his leather wristband.

Lloyd snapped out of his musings. "Huh?"

"The german chocolate. It's not your thing?"

"No- no, no. It's great," Lloyd assured him with a somewhat forced smile. "I just... I dunno, my mind wandered. Sorry." He picked up the cupcake and took another bite.

There was quiet between them for a few minutes. Lloyd picked at the cupcake, frustrated with himself for allowing these unhappy thoughts to creep into his mind.

 _I should have expected this, though... Coming back, even for a little while, is bound to dredge up a few memories._

"So… you been keeping up with Starfarer?" Azamat asked.

Lloyd shrugged. "I kinda fell behind," he admitted. "I mean, I read a few issues after I left, but... I dunno."

He shrugged again, not knowing what else to do. He'd be the first to admit that he wasn't great with words. But even if he were, how could he make Azamat understand this pain?

 _Why would I want him to understand?_ Lloyd asked himself. _What makes me think he would even care?_ No, he would keep his long-winded expositions tucked safely inside his head.

"Well, I started reading Starfarer in my spare time," Azamat said. "I guess I'll keep quiet." He shook his head. "There was a _huge_ plot twist in the latest issue, and every time I try to talk to Gahiji or Amilia…well, you can guess how that goes." He groaned, throwing an arm in the air. "Let me know if you decide to start reading again. I'm _still_ mad about it-"

"Azamat," A voice called from the kitchen.

Azamat grimaced. "Aw… shoot, I was supposed to help Gahiji frost the next batch of cupcakes. I'll be right back."

He stood, then paused. "Actually, why don't you just come into the kitchen with me?"

Lloyd hesitated only a moment before following Azamat. He couldn't help a thrilled grin as he entered the kitchen.

Gahiji leaned over a shiny metal table in the middle of the room, wearing an apron identical to Azamat's, carefully but briskly extracting white cupcakes from their tins and lining them up on a rack. To the side, a huge, industrial-sized mixer whirred and vibrated as it creamed the beginnings of a fresh batch of frosting.

Gahiji barely glanced in Lloyd's direction as he worked. "Since when was it store policy to let customers into the kitchen?" he said gruffly.

"Customer?" Lloyd repeated, slightly offended. "A 'Nice to see you' would be appreciated."

Gahiji paused, then turned to examine Lloyd fully.

"Garmadon," he said. "I didn't recognize you with that... haircut."

Lloyd touched the top of his head. So he'd let his hair grow a _little_ long in his six-month absence from the team. But did _everyone_ have to point it out?

" _Tu quoque_ ," Azamat retorted, looking to Gahiji's own long hair, which shone like a cloud at noonday in the bright lights overhead.

There was a moment of silence. Then Gahiji turned back to his work.

Azamat chuckled, and Lloyd dared to join him after deciding that Gahiji either couldn't hear them over the noise of the mixer, or had decided to just ignore them.

"Get that batch going," Gahiji ordered Azamat. "And Garmadon."

Lloyd immediately sobered. "Yes, sir?"

The Amidian nodded at the sink. "Wash your hands and put your hair up."

"Yessir."

Lloyd obeyed. In the meantime, Azamat added ingredients to the large mixer, and Gahiji went to the walk-in refrigerator to fetch something.

"So," Azamat shouted over the mixer. "What brings you here? Cupcakes, or company?"

"Cupcakes," Lloyd shouted back, and came up beside his friend. Together they watched the mixer's large whisks spin in the bowl. "And the company, I guess," he added with a grin.

Azamat didn't even bother to roll his eyes, shooting Lloyd a sly look.

After another few seconds, to Lloyd's relief, Azamat turned off the mixer. The kitchen was plunged into blessed quiet.

Azamat grabbed a clean spoon from a cup nearby and dipped it into the white, fluffy mixture inside. He popped the spoon into his mouth, looking thoughtful for a moment, then tossed the utensil into the sink about six paces off with a clatter.

"Hey," he said as Gahiji reemerged from the fridge with a large container of strawberries. "C'mere and taste this. What does it need?"

"More lemon," Gahiji said, without so much as looking into the bowl, and tossed Azamat a bottle.

Azamat stared at the bottle in his hand, opened his mouth indignantly, then shut it with a small sigh. He twisted the top and poured a few drops into the frosting mixture, flicking the mixer back on and turning to lean against it.

He smiled sadly at Lloyd. Then took a breath.

"Everyone misses you, you know," he said. "You should consider coming back one of these days."

"Aww, you miss me?" Lloyd teased.

"Well, sure I do," Azamat said defensively. "Everyone does. Even Gahiji, though he won't admit it."

They both glanced at the Amidian. Gahiji stood again at the shiny table, deftly slicing the strawberries, pointedly ignoring them.

"But when _are_ you coming back?" Azamat asked.

Lloyd looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I dunno."

His fingers closed around a bit of yarn. He fished it out with a start, staring at the green thread. He'd forgotten that was there…

"What's that?" Azamat asked.

Lloyd hastily shoved it back into his pocket. "Nothing," he said too quickly.

"Was that... yarn?"

"So what if it was?"

Azamat laughed. Gahiji glanced in their direction, one eyebrow raised.

The teenager was still chuckling as he turned the mixer off, tasted the frosting again, and tossed the second spoon in the sink, apparently satisfied.

"Seriously, though," he said to Lloyd. "What're you doing here, out of the blue? I mean, I'm happy to see you—but why now, of all times?"

Lloyd shrugged, a hand gripping the shoulder of his knapsack. "I just... I dunno."

"You sure are saying that a lot," Azamat remarked, slinging an arm around Lloyd's shoulders.

Before Lloyd knew what was happening, the pink-haired punk had slipped the knapsack from Lloyd's shoulder and was unzipping it.

"H-hey!" Lloyd cried out, trying in vain to snatch the bag back.

"What's this?" Azamat pulled out a blue-and-red-striped scarf.

"I made—" Lloyd caught himself. "I was _going_ to give it to you, but now I'm questioning that decision."

Azamat flung the scarf around his neck and examined his reflection in his phone's camera. "Wow, thanks, man!" he said with a grin. "One can never have too many scarves. Aw, man, the blue looks great with my hair."

"Yeah. You're welcome." Lloyd made a futile swipe for the knapsack, but Azamat leaped out of reach and whipped the second item from the pack: a gold and mahogany knit cap.

"Heyy! This is nice!" He tugged it on his pink head with a cheesy grin.

"Yeah, I made— _got_ that, too," Lloyd said, gritting his teeth. "Azamat, come on, give me my pack—!"

He leaned a little too far. They nearly fell into the mixer full of frosting—Azamat barely swerved to avoid it in time, and they both _oof_ ed into the counter.

"Careful," Gahiji warned, eying them with a mix of interest and disapproval.

"Azamat—" Lloyd tried.

Before Lloyd could reach over him and snatch his pack back, Azamat pulled the last item from the knapsack.

It was a large blanket, folded and tied with a length of yarn.

"Woah..." Azamat stroked the soft material. "It's like magical cotton candy. Is this for Amilia?"

"Em..." Lloyd froze, staring at the blanket. Woven from emerald, pink, aqua-blue, and gold.

Gahiji froze, too.

"No," Lloyd told Azamat. "The hat's for Amilia. I..."

Lloyd then turned to his taller friend.

"The blanket... it's for you, Gahiji."

Gahiji's eyes shifted from the candy-colored blanket to Lloyd's face.

For a brief moment, he looked lost.

Then he steeled his jaw and turned back to his work.

Azamat handed the blanket back to Lloyd, avoiding his gaze.

"Where do you want it?" Lloyd asked quietly.

Gahiji gripped a new strawberry so hard that it slipped, painting his fingers red as the bruised berry rolled across the table.

"Leave it by my coat," he said stiffly, snatching the strawberry back.

Azamat pointed wordlessly to the back of the shop. Holding the blanket close, Lloyd hurried to the small closet near the back exit, where Azamat indicated. He set the blanket on the shelf, next to where Gahiji's coat hung.

Lloyd paused to touch the soft material one last time.

He'd put many weeks into making this blanket for Gahiji. And sure, at first glance it seemed like an odd color combination for dear Grumphiji, but... well, he'd hoped that Gahiji would have been able to see the meaning behind it.

And maybe he had. It was difficult to tell.

Lloyd swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You have some to-go cups for those cupcakes, Azamat?" he asked. "The sun's gonna go down in a few hours. I should start heading back soon."

"Whaaat?" Azamat was scandalized. "Nonono, grab an apron! You can help me out with this frosting. It's gonna go on those cupcakes Gahiji's cooling over there."

Lloyd hesitated, glancing at Gahiji, who didn't return the look.

"I really shouldn't," Lloyd said. "I'll only slow you down. And—"

"Grab an apron, Garmadon," Gahiji said. It was more a command than a suggestion.

"Wh - y-yessir."

 _I guess a slightly longer stay won't hurt any,_ Lloyd acquiesced, accepting an apron from Azamat.

* * *

Gahiji and Azamat were welcomed home shortly after dark by Amilia. She raised her mug of tea to them as she sat at the kitchen table, studying.

"Guess what?" Azamat said, grinning as he shed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. "Lloyd came to the shop today!"

"Really?" Amilia looked up, her eyes huge. "What was he doing?"

"Just saying hi, I think," Azamat answered. He pulled off his new scarf and dangled it for display. "Look at this! He got us all gifts!"

He fished the hat out of his pocket and handed it to Amilia. "Here, see?"

Amilia gasped. Gingerly, she pulled it over her head and down to cover her ears. "Oh, wow... it's so _soft!_ "

"The scarf is soft, too! Feel."

"You're right, it is!"

Gahiji hung his coat up on the rack next to the garage door, listening to the twins ooh and ahh over their gifts.

"I _love_ this hat," Amilia said, pulling it off again. She rubbed the gold and brown knit between her thumb and forefinger. "It looks homemade... Did he make it himself?"

"Yes," Gahiji said suddenly.

Azamat blinked. "What? How do you know that?"

"Green yarn in his pocket," Gahiji said.

"Oh!" Azamat put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Can't believe I missed that... oh... and that was the same color as your...?"

Amilia turned around in her chair. "Oh, did you get a gift, too?"

Gahiji did not answer. He dropped the package containing Lloyd's blanket on the counter and opened the fridge.

Amilia gazed at the package for a moment.

"Can I see it?" she asked.

Gahiji, still, did not reply.

Amilia and Azamat exchanged helpless looks.

Then Amilia turned back to her textbook with a longsuffering sigh.

"Studies took a bit long today," she admitted, flipping to a new page in her textbook. "So I brought home tacos. Hope you don't mind."

Gahiji grunted and grabbed one of two to-go boxes sitting on a shelf in the fridge. He retrieved the blanket, grateful that Amilia could not see it through the thick brown paper, and retreated to his bedroom.

The place was pristine. The burgundy covers on his bed were without wrinkle, the pillows as if they had never been slept on. The surfaces of his desk and dresser were kept so clean, they might have never even been _breathed_ on.

Gahiji shed his coat onto the back of his chair and set dinner on the desk. He moved to place the package beside it.

Then he paused.

Took the package in both hands, weighing it.

He sat down on the bed, unfolded the wrapping from the item inside, and pulled the blanket gently free.

Baby pink and pale gold wove through rich, glossy emerald. These colors didn't muddy, but swirled together to form an undulant pattern. Resembling a cascading waterfall, or the leaves of a quaking aspen, or the serene slopes of clouds on the horizon. Gahiji couldn't see a single fumble in its craftsmanship; the knitting so precise, the yarn so smooth, as to make the blanket shimmer even in artificial light, like strands of bundled pearls.

The colors of December's soul danced in the stitches.

He gazed at it.

 _December..._

The brown paper packaging fluttered to the floor.

 _I miss you._

 _I do._

Gingerly, Gahiji swept the blanket across his own shoulders, the layers of green, gold, blue, and rosy pink encircling him.

It was warm.


	4. I Just Love Him is All

**A/N: *Camera pans down to view a monstrous pile of ragged notebooks, scrawled-upon papers, mechanical pencils that have long since become empty husks with no led nor purpose. All of this and StoneByrd's haggard face is lit by a single laptop.***

 **"Mmm look," she says. "It's been almost a full year since I posted something on Fanfiction. Maybe we should fix that."**

 **Haaa, in all seriousness though, guys. I've been hard at work on that next fic, Technical Difficulties, so that's taking up the bulk of my writing time... but here's a silly little piece I wrote a few weeks ago. I'm alive and kicking, I promise! As always, thanks to Astrid16 for beta-ing ~ Enjoy!**

* * *

Breakfast in the Julien household was unusually quiet that autumn morning. Almost... peaceful.

Dobryak squinted at his children. Gahiji stewed over his english homework, his chin in his hand, earbuds plugged into his ears. December's oatmeal muffin was stuffed halfway into her mouth, her eyes focused through her brother's homework across the table from her.

She looked pensive. So deep in thought that she would take a bite of muffin and then forget to chew it for a few seconds. Dobryak suspected it was only a matter of time before her obviously serious thoughts worked their way out. He peered over his book from time to time, curious as to what was on her mind.

Finally, a few minutes before they would be heading off to school, December set down her muffin and fixed Dobryak with a somber look.

"Papa?" she said.

He looked over his book at her. "Yes, _malyshka?_ "

"I think I'm in love."

A pause.

Gahiji glanced up from his homework, tugging one earbud out.

Dobryak cleared his throat. "Oh, you are?" he managed to say.

She nodded.

"In love with whom?"

"Paul Trueman."

Gahiji choked. December glared at him, and he ducked his head, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Gahiji's friend?" Dobryak clarified, sticking his bookmark in and closing his book.

She nodded again. "I thought you should know, because I want to marry him when I'm twenty."

"... When you're twenty, huh."

"Yup. But for now we'll just be friends. Cuz I'm not twenty yet. But I'm pretty sure he's in love with me, too."

Dobryak glanced at Gahiji, who was stifling a fit of laughter. He caught his father's stern eye and gulped, managing a straight face.

"How do you figure?" Dobryak asked his daughter.

"I just know," December said with a shrug. "Cuz he lets me play first in bingo. And also he likes my drawings. And he's just nice to me all the time."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. He holds my hand when we cross the street, cuz Gahiji won't."

"That's very nice of him."

"But he does scare me sometimes. He yells 'boo' a lot and does this." December raised her hands like claws in the air and made a scary face. "But then he says sorry, which is better than Gahiji does it, cuz Gahiji doesn't apologize."

"I see."

"I just love him so much," December said, picking up her muffin again and taking another bite.

Dobryak cleared his throat again. He figured he'd better take an at least semi-serious approach to this; December seemed so sincere herself.

Meanwhile, Gahiji's fist pressed against his pursed lips, eyes squeezed shut. He looked about to cry from suppressing his hysterics.

"Now, you know I don't want you dating any boys until you're older, don't you?" he said to December, shooting Gahiji another warning look that of course he didn't see.

"Oh, we're not dating, Papa," she assured him quickly.

"You're not?"

"No. I just love him is all."

Dobryak paused. "Well I suppose you know I don't want you kissing any boys, either. Not even Paul."

"I know," December said. "Only sometimes."

Gahiji made a strangled whimpering noise.

" 'Scuse me," he said, stuffing his homework into his backpack and retreating hastily from the kitchen.

"Where's he going?" December demanded.

"To school," Dobryak said smoothly, ignoring the muffled burst of laughter from the hallway. "What do you mean 'only sometimes'?"

"Only at special times," December said, squinting suspiciously at the hall door.

"Ah—I'd prefer not at all, love."

"But sometimes I _want_ to, Papa."

"Well, of course you'll _want_ to, sometimes." Dobryak grimaced. He'd hoped to have had a few years before _this_ conversation.

"How about once a month," December said.

Dobryak shook his head.

"What about on holidays?"

Again, he shook his head.

"How about just on my birthday," she tried. "Once. On the cheek."

" _Malyshka_ , I don't think you should kiss any boys until you're older."

She scowled. "How _much_ older?"

Dobryak bit his lip to keep from grinning at her irritation. "I think Gahiji's age is a good age, don't you?"

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Well, why not?"

"Because that's so far _away!_ "

"Only seven years, dear."

"But what if I like a _different_ boy by then, Papa?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"But that means I'll never get to kiss Paul," December said miserably.

"Well at that point I imagine you'd rather kiss the boy you liked."

"Yeah, but I like Paul _now_ , Papa."

"I'm sorry, December." Dobryak had to be firm on this point while he had the chance. "I don't want you kissing until you're Gahiji's age."

"But I'll never _be_ Gahiji's age," December muttered.

Dobryak almost said "Exactly!"—but caught himself.

"Seventeen," he said. "When you're _seventeen_ , you may kiss boys. ... On the cheek."

December glowered at him.

"How about when we get married," she said.

Dobryak blinked.

"Well—yes, when you're old enough to marry. That's a reasonable age."

"No, just when we _get_ married. Not a specific age."

"That—uh."

"That way I can't kiss anyone and neither can Gahiji."

Dobryak couldn't help it. He laughed.

"It's not funny," December snapped. "I think it's unfair that Gahiji's allowed and I'm not."

"Oh, _December,_ " Dobryak sighed, recomposing himself, though he was still grinning. "It's like bedtimes, love. Gahiji goes to bed later than you do because he's older, right? It's the same thing."

"Bedtime is unfair, too," December said. "I've been saying so for years."

"Well, I'm sorry. Someday you'll be older, and I'll let you stay up, too."

"Yeah but by the time I can stay up as late as him right now, Gahiji will be staying up til _midnight!_ I'll never catch up, Papa!"

"Oh, _malyshka_ ," Dobryak said. "I hate to break it to you, but he's up til midnight now."

"Ugh," December said, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms. "It's not fair, Papa."

"I know, dear."

There was a brief silence.

"I'm still gonna hold his hand when we cross the street," December said darkly.

Dobryak barely managed to suppress a second chuckle. "That's reasonable."


	5. Broken

**A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, here it is—the oneshot to trump all oneshots—the culmination of months of sweating and fretting and rewriting and editing and betaing and discussing—and now please enjoy:**

* * *

 **~ Broken ~**

* * *

December 12th, 5:23 PM; four months after Overlord's second defeat

The Julien household

* * *

 _"Hey, Amilia?" Azamat said. "What's the plural of 'fish'?"_

 _Amilia glanced at him from the island, where she chopped celery for the soup._

 _"Fish," she said._

 _"Yeah. Fish."_

 _"No, 'fish'," she repeated. "It's already plural."_

 _"Well yeah. But I've heard 'fish-es' before. Does it mean something different from plain old 'fish'?"_

 _"I don't think so." She slid all the chopped celery onto a plate with her knife. "'Fishes' sounds like old Ninjagian to me."_

 _"So... should I use 'fish'?"_

 _"Depends on the context. If it's possessive, 'fishes'. If someone is presently fishing, like 'John fishes in the pond', it's 'fishes'."_

 _"But for the animal itself?"_

 _"I don't actually know. Look it up."_

 _Azamat grunted, typing into the laptop. After a moment, he read aloud: "'The plural of 'fish' is usually 'fish'. In biology, 'fishes' is used to refer to multiple species of fish.'"_

 _"Oh, well that makes sense," Amilia said._

 _Azamat wrinkled his nose—Amilia thought it was with distaste, but he sneezed._

 _"'Fishes' it is, I guess," he said, rubbing his nose. "It sorta sounds like it shouldn't be a word."_

 _"Sorta," Amilia agreed. "This is your language arts project?"_

 _"Ugh, yes. Could you edit it when I'm finished?"_

 _"Sure. It's about fish, then?"_

 _"I wish. It's a critical analysis presenting the symbolic controversies of the last book we were supposed to read."_

 _"You say 'supposed to' like you didn't."_

 _"Heh, naw, I read it last night, after Miss Rivera announced the analysis assignment."_

 _"Oh, brother." Amilia glanced up at the ceiling._

 _Azamat snorted. "Hey, at least I'm not failing yet."_

 _"You say 'yet' like you're going to!"_

 _Amilia lifted her wooden spoon threateningly. Azamat ducked behind the laptop, grinning, but she at last shook her head._

 _"Well," she said after a moment, giving the soup a final stir before setting the lid on. "Think your fishes could wait for a bit?"_

 _"Why?—Oh, the tree?"_

 _They had wanted to decorate the Christmas tree with Gahiji, Lou, and London, when they came back. ... They were supposed to have been here by now._

 _"This is really the only night to do it," Amilia said._

 _"Yeah," Azamat said, half-shutting the laptop. "I have rehearsals on Saturdays and you have class all the other nights. ... I don't think they'd mind if we went ahead and decorated without them...?"_

 _"Gahiji doesn't do Christmas, anyways."_

 _They both chuckled._

 _Then the garage door opened._

 _Amilia whirled—Azamat got up from his chair._

 _A head of ginger hair, dripping with rain, came through the door, followed by one of slicked-back charcoal._

 _"Speak of the devil!" Azamat yelped, as Amilia cried "You're home!"_

 _"Yeah," London said with a tired smile. "We're home."_

 _She closed up her umbrella and leaned it against the table. Lou shed his raincoat and hung it on the back of the door, closing it softly. They were immediately wrapped in a hug each._

 _"Sorry." Lou chuckled. "We're a little late."_

 _"I'll say," Amilia retorted, hugging him for all she was worth. "You were supposed to be home two days ago."_

 _"We tried to call you," London said._

 _"We tried to call_ you! _"_

 _"... We got a little held up."_

 _Another pause. Azamat craned his neck over London's shoulder, gazing at the closed garage door, and blinked._

 _"Where's Gahiji?" he said._

 _Lou and London exchanged looks._

 _"He's okay, right?" Amilia demanded, pulling back from Lou._

 _"Yeah. Yeah, he's fine," Lou said heavily. "He'll be home soon."_

 _"How soon?" Amilia shot back. "Two days soon? Or two weeks?"_

 _Lou winced, but London wasn't phased._

 _"I don't know," she said frankly._

 _The twins looked at each other. Azamat grimaced; Amilia sighed._

 _"Glad you're back safe," she said at last. "Sit down, and you can tell us everything."_

 _"Starting with why Gahiji's not with you," Azamat said._

 _They did sit down. There was another short silence; Lou and London seemed to be having a conversation entirely of significant looks._

 _At last, London sighed._

 _"Gahiji is with Prosper."_

 _"With Prosper?" Both the twins blinked. "Why, what's wrong with Prosper?"_

* * *

 **Two months prior**

* * *

October 4th, 5:52 AM

The Destiny's Bounty

* * *

"It's a Christmas miracle," Jay whispered, his nose pressed to the glass of the bunkroom window.

The sun wasn't quite up yet, but there was enough light to see the white blanketing the whole deck; two feet of glorious, wet, perfect snow.

"It's not even Halloween," Cole said.

"What, you think that's about to stop me?" Jay said. They both grinned and scrambled to the closet, rifling around for their winter clothes.

"Technically, we have training to do," Zane said with a smile, seated on the edge of his bunk. "As if that's about to be seriously considered, but for the record."

"I mean, we've been training a lot lately," Jay said. "Sensei can't be too upset with us."

"The snow will all melt by the time the sun comes up," Cole added. "Better go out while it's fresh."

"It won't melt as much as one might think, this high in elevation," Zane said, joining them at the closet. "We are in the Orroran mountains, after all, one of the coldest mountain ranges in all of NinjaGo.—But I don't care, either."

Jay nudged him, grinning. "That's the spirit, Frosty!"

They gathered an armful of winter clothes each, then retreated to their bunks to dress.

"Is Kai up?" Jay asked. "He oughta come outside too."

Cole squinted at the top bunk. "Think he'll want to go outside?"

"Think he ought to. It's a snow day."

"Statistically speaking, things are more interesting when Kai is included," Zane added.

Cole snorted. "Statistically speaking, you'd be nuts to wake him up before seven."

"Oh, please." Jay climbed halfway up the ladder and popped his head into Kai's bunk. "Kaiiiii."

Cole shook his head. Zane looked amused, but kept eying Jay's back apprehensively.

"Kai, wake up!" Jay poked him in the side. "We're all going outside. It snowed last night."

Kai squirmed, but didn't turn over.

"Come onnnn, Kai. Don't be a killjoy." Jay poked a little harder. "We're all going!"

Kai rolled over and attempted to slap Jay.

"Geez!" Jay said, but smiled. "You missed."

"Go away," Kai croaked, pulling his covers over his head.

"Oh, come on. It snowed!"

"Go away."

Jay huffed, then ducked another swing. "Alright, alright! Yeesh!"

He slid back to the floor, shoved his arms through his coat, pulled his boots on, and scooped the rest of his gear into his arms.

"See ya, Kai," Cole said, shooting a glance back at his bunk as they started out the door.

"We'll be outside," Jay added. "In all that glorious snow."

"Come out when you're ready," Zane said, ever the merciful one.

But Kai didn't stir or reply.

"What a grinch," Jay remarked.

"Again," Cole said, grinning, "it's not Christmas."

"Oh, please! It snowed. I'm going to make my holiday references, thank you very much."

"Shh," Zane reminded them. "It's hardly six o'clock."

They all hushed. In the kitchen, Cole tentatively flicked the light on—just as the sliding door open. Nya tromped inside, covered in white from her knees down.

"Nya!" they said, surprised.

"Oh! You're up!" she said. "I was just coming to get you guys."

"You have impeccable timing!" Zane said.

She laughed—face pink from the cold, teeth chattering, already half-soaked and grinning hugely.

"Are you guys gonna be warm enough?" she asked, surveying the boys wearing only pajamas, coats, and boots.

"Are we?" Cole asked, grimacing.

"It's freezing out there." Nya shook her head. "I'm wearing two pairs of gloves, a sweater, and some leggings under this, and I'm still cold."

"Ugh, fine," Jay said. "We'll bundle up better."

Nya grinned. "Don't worry, I'll wait."

Then, after a pause, she asked: "Hey—where's Kai?"

"In bed," Jay said. "Being a grinch."

"And where's Eboni?" Cole asked.

Nya shrugged. "In bed. ... Being a grinch."

A pause.

"Grinches!" Jay declared. "Both of them."

* * *

Eboni braced herself to walk into the kitchen. She expected the loud, good-natured bickering and chattering of the boys over their food. Expected to hear all their plans for the day, all their opinions on said food, their kitchen utensils, training, NinjaGo's crime rates, missions, Jay's hair. Anything and everything, really. Expected to be ducking beneath all their gazes.

But she stopped short in the doorway.

The kitchen was empty.

It was too good to be true. Were all the Ninja _and_ their Sensei outside playing in the snow? It had seemed a little quiet—maybe—

She leaned up against the kitchen sink and peered out the window. One, two, three, four—five and six weren't there, but they weren't in the kitchen, either.

She was alone.

What a relief.

Eboni fixed her own breakfast, for once. It was quiet in the kitchen—for once.

It couldn't last... could it? She was quick about cracking eggs into a pan, setting the heat to high. Her eggs cooked—still, no one intruded.

She was just starting to believe perhaps she had a morning to herself, just sitting down to a nice solitary breakfast-of-one. Then all four dorks burst in from the great outdoors.

She sighed.

"Spinjitzu Master, that smells amazing," Jay gasped, inhaling the scent of Eboni's eggs. "You didn't happen to make more of those, did you, Eboni?"

"I figured you'd eaten already."

"I'll make some," Zane offered, draping all his snow gear on the back of a chair. Jay, Nya, and Cole followed suit; Eboni found herself suddenly surrounded by soggy clothes, which somehow spread all across the table in the ten seconds it took them to half-undress.

"And we should make some pancakes, too," Cole said, hanging his coat unwittingly off the back of Eboni's chair. Snow dripped from the collar onto the back of her neck, and she stiffened.

"Great idea," Nya said. "Do we have any bacon?"

"I know there's sausage in the freezer," Jay said.

"Someone mind shutting the door?" Eboni said.

Zane leaned over and shut it, delegating cooking jobs to the others as he did so. All four of them set to work, bustling and buzzing around the kitchen.

Eboni briefly considered taking her breakfast and locking herself in Nya's bathroom.

"Hey, Eboni," Nya said after minute. "Is Kai up yet?"

"I haven't seen him," she replied, starting on her eggs anyways.

Nya frowned. "Hmm." Turning back to her teammates, she asked, "You guys didn't stay up super late last night, did you?"

"No later than usual," Cole said.

"Yeah? What's the usual?"

"Heh—I mean, we all went to bed at ten thirty. Kai might have stayed up. I don't know."

"I'm going to go wake him up," Nya said. "That way he can eat and come out with us."

"Good luck," Jay said. "He was a real grouch earlier."

"You mean grinch," Cole corrected, as Nya left the kitchen.

Jay huffed. "Excuse you. Weren't you the one getting all torqued about my holiday references?"

"Well if you're going to summon the Yuletide demons, you could at least be consistent."

"Yuletide _demons_?"

"Yuletide demons. You know. The hell-sent creatures that decided the holidays were a good idea."

Zane laughed. Jay sputtered.

"Excuse you," he said again.

"The wicked spirits who whisper in people's ears to set up their fake Christmas trees in August and play carols in the car in May," Cole said frankly.

"Excuse you!" Jay cried, and this time Cole and Zane both laughed together.

Eboni rolled her eyes.

Nya reentered the kitchen, looking grim.

"Is Kai up?" Zane asked.

"He's sick," she replied.

All three Ninja gave groans of mixed disbelief and sympathy.

"Head cold?" Jay asked.

"Fingers crossed," Nya said, rummaging in a cabinet. "I need to check his temperature, though. Might be the flu."

"Well that crosses 'snow day' off the list for a while," Cole said.

Jay sighed. "Fine. We'll let him rest, I suppose."

There was a pause.

Then—

"Hey, Eboni. Wanna come out with us?"

Eboni tensed.

"I'm fine," she said. She offered a brief, small smile over her shoulder at Jay. "Thanks, though."

There was a pause. Eboni supposed they must be wondering whether or not to press her. They weren't opposed to pressing Kai—but of course, it was another matter to press her.

"Come on, Eboni," Nya said. "I've got another coat and gloves you can use. And Jay and I need someone on our team."

"We have a better fort," Cole said.

"But you have Zane!"

"Ehh, fair."

Eboni shook her head. "I might come out later."

Another pause.

"Okay," Nya said. "But hey, the sooner, the better. Jay and I really are getting crushed."

"Heh. Noted."

Nya left to take Kai's temperature, and the boys reverted to their slightly nonsensical, barely straight-faced joking. Eboni finished her eggs, putting her dishes in the sink just as everyone sat down to the table to eat their own feast of a meal, and went back to hide in Nya's room until they'd all gone back outside.

She felt a little guilty about shutting them down. It was nice of them to try.

They'd been trying since she'd first arrived, the dear idiots.

And to be clear, Eboni didn't hate them.

She had to be grateful to them. They'd taken her in; given her a second chance, as it were. It was of course the most gracious, kind, cliché thing for a team of heroes to do, but she was still indebted to them.

Which ought to have provoked gratitude.

But it instead resigned her to an indelible guilt.

How dare she accept so much from them?

She tried to believe their kindness was free. At least, meant to be. They supposed she needed help, after everything that had happened that night—but she wished they could see what they were really doing, "helping" her.

If they knew how much the guilt weighed on her, they might have just let her be.

Let her rot.

But no—they were dear, sweet idiots.

 _Oh no, it's okay!_ they said. _Don't worry, it's our pleasure! Really, we insist, Eboni!_

It would have been insulting if it weren't meant so honestly.

* * *

Kai awoke with a blinding headache.

It took a while to force himself out of bed. He wasn't sure how he made it down from the top bunk, but he dragged his blanket down with him. Wrapped in his bedding, he plodded down the hall into the kitchen.

Eboni was there, washing the dishes. She glanced at him, then down again, focusing on the sink full of sudsy water.

Kai stood in the doorway for a minute, trying to blink himself awake. He determined he'd better get himself some sort of painkiller before his throbbing head got worse, and he set off stumbling towards the cabinet full of medicine beside the sink.

Eboni stepped to the side, continuing to wash and rinse dishes. Kai did his best to ignore her, too, registering somewhere in his aching brain that his company was the last thing she'd like.

Oh, and he was sick. Another reason to avoid him.

He found the bottle of tylenol and tipped a few pills out. He turned to get a glass from the adjacent cabinet, hoping to get out of Eboni's way—only to find it empty.

He cringed. Then he shot a look over his shoulder at the rack of drying dishes on Eboni's other side.

"Hey," he started, pointing at the dishes. "Could you—?"

Without a word, she plucked a glass from the rack, filled it, and set it on the counter beside him.

Kai took the glass just as the pain intensified, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Thanks," he gasped.

Eboni glanced up at him, opening her mouth reluctantly; probably to ask if he was okay. He was about to reassure her that he was fine, just a headache, when the glass slipped from his fingers.

She caught it inches from shattering on the floor.

"Lean over the sink," she said, grabbing his arm, giving him no option to disobey.

He was vaguely aware of Eboni's palm digging into his spine as she rubbed his back, which was painful, but it distracted somewhat from the fact that he was vomiting all his respiratory and digestive organs down the sink.

Not actually, but still.

He thought it would never pass. As it went on, Eboni whistled, impressed.

"You're a real wuss, aren't you?"

He leaned back. She snatched the towel from the counter and wiped the bile from his mouth.

"You done?"

He nodded.

"Come on."

Eboni pulled him away from the sink and lead him to the TV room, adjacent to the kitchen.

"Lay down."

He laid down on the couch, turning onto his side. The nausea departed, but that cursed headache resurfaced.

"Dear Overlord, your team sucks at taking care of each other." She sounded disgusted. "Stay right there."

Kai might have been irritated at Eboni's open distaste, but right now he could only regret ever getting out of his bunk. How he stayed conscious, he didn't know. He almost wished he'd black out.

Eboni returned, a cloth draped over her arm, the glass of water in one hand, pills in the other.

"Sit up," she said, kneeling next to him.

He tried to. At last she grabbed his arm and helped him upright, then handed him the glass and the pills.

"Here. Take those."

With some difficulty, Kai swallowed them. He started to lift the glass, but Eboni took it back impatiently, tipping the water down his throat for him.

"Good job." Sarcastic. "Now lay back down."

She folded the cloth, pushed his hair back from his forehead, and pressed it to his skin. It was cool and damp, instantly soothing both headache and fever.

There followed a brief pause. Kai forced his eyes open and met Eboni's own haughty hazel gaze.

She gave him a tight, insulting grin and tucked his blankets closer to his neck.

"You get some rest, now, sweetie," she said.

Kai seethed. He swallowed his anger—but only just.

"Thank you," he mouthed.

She looked about to snort.

Then she stood.

"Hopeless," she muttered.

She left him lying on the couch, feeling decidedly ungrateful—until pain overtook him and he did black out.

* * *

It took Eboni the better half of the day to clean the main level. From time to time one of the Ninja would come inside for an extra scarf or a carrot, see her cleaning, ask her again if she wanted to come outside—help them with their snowman or snow fort. Or whatever.

Again, rather sweet of them.

Eboni finally stepped back to survey her work. Every surface was nearly spotless. The bookshelves in the TV room were dusted and their contents straightened. The oven and microwave were clean, too, the floors were swept and mopped, the baseboards wiped down. Times like this, she almost believed she could survive in this place for another day.

Then she glanced at Kai, sacked out on the couch, snoring ill-sounding snores.

She narrowed her eyes.

Then she approached him, lifting the cloth from his forehead and feeling for his new temperature. Still high. She rewetted the cloth in the sink, wiping at the sweat on his flushed face before arranging the cloth back on his forehead.

Sheesh. She might as well make him some chicken noodle soup, seeing as she was so appallingly nice and all.

Kai stirred in his sleep. The back of his hand brushed her thigh.

Eboni jumped. She stepped back, narrowly resisting the urge to slap him; but he didn't wake up.

She exhaled. "Creep," she muttered.

He went right on snoring, oblivious.

Eboni stood, arms crossed, glaring down at him.

Trying to convince herself she felt sorry for him.

Because that red streak in his hair was faded, but still visible. There was an indentation in his lower lip from the labret. The single earring he'd kept didn't help, either.

She hated him. That face, that smile, those striking amber eyes—they made her sick.

She could hardly speak to him politely. She made herself look at him now, knowing she shouldn't hate him; but if she had her way, she'd never have to look at him again.

Justified? Maybe.

Fair? Definitely not.

As if it was anything new.

Because sometimes she hated Nya, too. She hated all the Ninja, all their Shautei friends—their stupid jokes, the way they all cared so much for each other. Their concern and hovering over her, wanting to "help" any way they could.

It reminded her of her own team.

Zakhar, Liv, Pyoter.

She hated them, too, because she didn't know where they were, and she didn't have the guts to find them, to let them know it was alright, she was alright.

Because she didn't have the guts to turn around and look them—and everything else—in the face.

She hated herself for that. It was so unfair to them.

To all of them.

Sometimes, looking at Kai, that guilt would swallow her. And other times she would just hate him.

Looking at him, now—at the sheer goodness in what was once J'avi's face—she hated him.

She hated Soren.

Eboni clenched and unclenched her fists. She lifted one hand to her mouth and bit her index finger.

This happened often. She would gaze at Kai, and for a moment she would hate them all. Every last one of them—oh, she would hate them.

And when she couldn't hate them anymore, she missed them.

So much she wanted to scream.

She missed them.

Missed _him_.

Eboni took a deep breath.

 _Dear, sweet idiot._

She knew she couldn't run from Soren forever. She could only push Kai out of her way for so long.

As if that would stop her from trying.

* * *

A week later, Jay came into the kitchen and found Kai at the table, staring out the window, his chin in his hand.

He walked past him without noticing, at first. But when Kai didn't greet him, he turned from the refrigerator, watching Kai's pensive expression curiously.

He glanced out the window, too. Eboni and Nya were attacking the snow with a shovel each, apparently having a rather entertaining conversation. When Jay looked over, Nya threw her head back in helpless laughter, and Eboni herself was grinning.

Of the two, Jay could guess who Kai was watching.

He gave Kai a few moments to notice him there. Then he cleared his throat.

"That blue is a good color on her, huh?"

Kai grunted. Then he registered what Jay had said; he glanced up at Jay's smile, then looked at the table.

"What," Jay said. "You think no one notices you staring at her?"

"It's not like that," Kai said with a sigh.

"Yeah? What is it like, then?"

He didn't answer—only closed his eyes and sipped his coffee.

There was a brief pause. Jay craned his neck to look out the window again, then shot Kai another grin.

"She's cute."

Kai rolled his eyes. Jay squinted at him.

"And smart," he added. "And practical."

"Jaaaay."

"Whaaaat? She's kick-ay."

Kai huffed. But he smiled a little. "Geez. You're not _actually_ encouraging me to pursue a former Hidoimastaa."

"Hey, note the former," Jay said, smiling broader. "She's Healed now."

"Yeah. Well." Kai looked out the window again. "... She doesn't like me very much."

"I don't think she likes any of us very much," Jay pointed out. " 'Cept Nya."

"Sure."

"Oh, come on," Jay said. "So what makes her specifically dislike you, huh?"

Another silence.

"I'm honestly grateful it doesn't occur to you right off the bat," Kai said, giving Jay another a weak smile.

Jay opened his mouth, confused.

Then he groaned.

" _That's_ what's on your mind."

"It's on my mind a lot, if you can believe it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Like I said, glad it's not your first thought."

Another pause.

"Well, that _would_ put a damper on the relationship."

Kai _mm_ ed.

"Do you...?"

"Do I what?"

"I don't want to pry."

"Say what you were going to say."

Jay bit his lip. "Do you... remember? ... Everything J'avi did?"

Kai looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

Then gave a tight nod.

Jay blew out through his lips.

"So... you sorta knew Eboni already."

"Sorta." Kai rubbed his mug, closing his eyes again.

"Did he know her well?"

"I mean, he only spent a few days in the Compound." Kai's eyes darkened. "But he knew her well enough."

Jay's stomach lurched.

"He—he didn't—" Stuttering, nauseated by the thought. "He and Eboni, they didn't—?"

"No," Kai said. "No, First Spinjitzu Master be praised. He didn't try—"

He faltered.

"— _that_."

But Jay got the feeling J'avi had tried something.

Kai looked sick. He pushed the mug away and cradled his forehead in his hands, exhaling slowly.

Jay swallowed to keep down the rising gag reflex.

He could only imagine what it must have been like. For Kai to be in there. Trapped in his own mind—in his own body.

Watching J'avi.

Terrified at the thought of what he might do.

And to be there for all the things he did do...

"Eboni hated him."

Jay glanced up. Kai smiled, though he looked anything but entertained.

"I doubt she has the presence of mind to differentiate me from him," he said. "If she does, she hardly cares. She's too angry. She's been hurt too deeply."

"Was it... J'avi, who hurt her?"

"No. But it hardly matters. He reminds her of the one who did."

Silence again.

"But for her to hate you?" Jay said finally. Bitterly. "She knows you're not J'avi. She can't judge you by him."

"I don't think it's that simple."

"Sure it is. You're not J'avi."

"I look like him."

" _He_ looked like _you_."

"It doesn't matter. Not to Eboni. She doesn't care."

"Why not?"

"She hurts too much."

Jay leaned back, still fuming.

"She needs to get over herself."

Kai's pained smile remained. "It's alright, Jay."

"Um, no, not really," Jay said. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. You don't deserve this— _any_ of this! None of the crap we've all given you. None of the crap _Eboni's_ giving you."

"It's alright. I'm not angry with you, or her."

"Why?" Jay demanded, helpless. "What, you're just gonna sit back and take it? All this contempt and anger not meant for you? Aren't you _sick_ of it?"

Kai gazed at him, silent, for a long time.

"I can't force her to judge me fairly," he said at last. "She's in too much pain, Jay. You don't know what Soren did to her."

Jay stopped, too, considering this.

"What he did to her?" he repeated slowly.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the refrigerator, clenching his jaw.

"How about all this, huh?" he murmured. "How about what _J'avi_ did to _you_?"

Kai winced, and looked down into his mug.

Jay wanted to either scream or cry—by the lump in his throat, he could guess which was going to come first.

"You're too good for her, you know that?" he said hoarsely. "You're too damn good for her."

On December twelfth, they got a phone call from the twins about Prosper.

It shocked them all, but threw Kai for more of a loop than he expected.

He hadn't brought himself to think of what had become of the Overlord, since that night. It hurt to think about—having been himself possessed by a Fragment of Prosper's soul, having seen intimately into the depths of Overlord's two other Fragments—recalling them both frightened and grieved him.

It felt strange, now, to regard Overlord as a mere man.

A man, like Kai; a man who must fight with the guilt of his actions.

Cole hung up. Kai and Zane were there with him, and had heard Cole's half of the call—they had just enough of an idea to dread the look on Cole's face when he turned to them.

They called for everyone. Everyone came—Nya holding Jay's hand, Sensei standing just behind them as Kai and Cole and Zane all stuttered to relate what they were still wrapping their own heads around.

Eboni stood in the doorway.

She listened for a moment.

And then she left.

That was it, Kai realized, when he looked up and saw an empty door, when he fell silent to hear her footsteps retreat calmly to Nya's room.

The news about Prosper—that was the line. Eboni would not live among the Ninja a moment more.

Half of the others looked like they wanted to run after her. Catch her, talk to her; try to slow her down enough to understand what this could possibly mean to her. Whether she felt grief or relief; regret or resignation.

Try to help her.

But no one did.

* * *

Kai wouldn't call it a reconciliation, exactly; the day Eboni left. He would have liked to, if he could. It was more like a roundabout apology. Except—no, neither of them had actually apologized, had they?

Fine, call it what it was; a confrontation.

On December twenty-sixth, roughly four months after Overlord's second defeat, the Destiny's Bounty flew over Jamanakai village for the first time since they had rebuilt it.

The Ninja all stood leaning on the deck railing. Gazing across at the bustling center of the snowy village they were fast approaching.

"Guess this is it, huh, Eboni?" Cole said.

She smiled a little from where she stood, apart from the Ninja. "Yeah. Guess so."

"What are you planning to do?" Zane asked.

Eboni regarded the village in the distance, quiet for a bit.

"Well, I'll stay with Liv for a while," she said, spreading her hands like it was a given. "I was thinking about moving to the City. Provided I can get a job to pay for it. Depends on how many miracles I can muster."

"The City's not cheap," Jay said with a whistle. "And there's a waiting list a mile long."

"But if you do end up moving," Nya said. "We know a real estate agent down there."

They all blinked at her. "We do?"

Nya laughed. "Don't tell me you guys _forgot_ about that cozy little one-room one-half bath?"

The Ninja all groaned.

Eboni, for once, looked amused. "A real estate agent?"

"Patty Keys," Nya said. "I'll get you details later if you want."

"I mean, again. Gotta get a job first."

"I'm sure you can find work somewhere."

"Yeah—I'll probably work at a pizza joint."

They all got a significant chuckle out of that.

"If I can't make the City, I'll probably go to Orrora," Eboni said. "Little less intense."

"Oh, have you thought about going to school?" Jay asked. "Orrora's a great college."

"I did consider it." She shrugged again. "Still figuring out what route I wanna go, far as careers go."

"Mm, yeah."

Another long silence.

Then Nya said, "We're going to miss you."

The Ninja all nodded. As guarded as she'd been, as cold as she was—they would miss her.

"Yeah, well."

Eboni's smile pinched. She looked down at her crossed arms, taking a deep breath.

"Thanks for... You know. Everything."

At this point Kai was familiar enough with guilt—both his own and Eboni's—to detect the bitterness that laced her thanks. She had braced herself for the "no trouble" it had been for the Ninja to host her, for the "always welcome" they'd extend, in case she ever needed their help again.

And Kai was familiar enough with pride to know she would never accept the invitation as long as she lived.

The others knew, too. To Eboni, this had not been an act of kindness, but one of cruelty.

Made all the more unbearable because kindness was all they'd meant.

So no one said anything. Nya nodded, and they left it at that.

The silence lasted a few more minutes. Eventually, the Bounty came to hover over Jamanakai.

Not four months ago, the village had been ravaged, almost beyond repair. A few houses were still under renovations. Singed roofs here and there. The gorge Ivorymastaa had torn in the earth was still there—roped off for now, but with plans to be filled and patched up.

Kai could look down into the village and tell you exactly where it had all happened.

He remembered where Povelitel had stood, where Kai had draped his arms around him—right there, in front of the great Fountain. He could trace, step-for-step, where he had dragged Soren by the throat up the mountain steps and dropped him from the sheer cliff wall.

He'd killed December in front of the Fountain, too.

— _J'avi_ had killed her. He had to remind himself that, sometimes, when the line between the Fragment's actions and Kai's blurred.

 _That you even have to remind yourself of that,_ a small voice murmured. _Doesn't it make you wonder whose actions they really were?_

A hand rested on his shoulder. Nya.

"Hey," she said.

Kai tried a smile. It apparently didn't work, since she leaned all the way across and wrapped him in a half-hug. Over her shoulder, Cole, Jay, and Zane all looked up at Kai, regret and sympathy in their eyes.

How pathetic they should be the ones comforting him. Apologizing to _him_.

Like it wasn't his fault.

It would take Kai a long time to believe that.

But the fact remained, it was not his place to apologize for J'avi. It would mean nothing if he did.

So why harbor this guilt?

Irrational, but he couldn't shake it. The guilt was all-consuming. It repeated all his weaknesses, told him to sit still, be quiet—he had no place here, he did not deserve his teammates, he did not deserve their kindness. Nor did he deserve their love.

 _Aw,_ the familiar voice said, making Kai's forced smile pinch.

His only comfort was that Lloyd was gone.

Lloyd, at least, had the decency to shun him. He was considerate enough to hate him, leave him, let him be.

Let him rot.

But Kai loved his teammates, regardless of his guilt. It was only because of them that he could stand it all. They were maybe the only reason that when he looked down, past the railing of the Destiny's Bounty, miles in the air, he didn't see the idea of slipping as a way out.

It had tempted him, sometimes; sometimes it seemed like such the perfect solution.

The voice tutted. _Even now?_

Kai swallowed, leaning slightly back from the railing. It revolted him that he had ever considered the thought.

 _Especially_ now.

Nya's grip tightened around Kai's shoulder.

"Ow," he said.

She looked at him. Then she punched him.

" _Ow,_ sis!" he repeated, this time laughing a little. "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" She gave him a mock-innocent look. "Come on, bro, let's go inside."

The others had all gone already. Kai stood up straight, stretching.

"Yeah, here I come."

"Wait."

They both paused.

Eboni stood at the railing a little ways behind them.

"You have a minute?" she said.

Kai hesitated.

"Yeah," he said.

Nya looked at him, wary. _Are you sure about this?_ she seemed to say.

Kai wasn't sure, and Nya knew that. But he nodded for her to go, and she trusted him.

The sliding door closed.

Kai and Eboni were alone.

She looked grim. Kai leaned tense against the railing, waiting for her to speak—trying to force his heart from his throat back down into his chest.

He had no place to hope.

And she made it clear, when she finally did speak, that mercy was the least of her intentions.

"How does it feel, Kai?"

A pause.

"To go through all that."

Another long silence.

"I can only imagine how it must be." Dryly. "How it must have been, for both you, and Hokori. Maybe you don't even remember it?"

Kai looked down at the snow on the railing, still biting his lip.

"Do you _remember_ what he did, Kai?"

"I do."

She turned her head towards him, her eyes narrow. "Oh, you do?"

Her mockery chaffed. "I'm sorry, okay?" he snapped.

She stopped. He huffed, but met her gaze, struggling to soften himself and stay resolved.

"I'm sorry," he said again, quieter. "I... I know what happened. _Everything_ that happened. I know why you're angry. And I'm sorry."

 _Please forgive Soren._

 _And if you can't forgive him, forgive J'avi._

 _And if you can't forgive them, then please, just forgive yourself!_

Because if she forgave him, she might acknowledge her own pain instead of lash out against Kai.

He wanted to say it—but before he could muster his individuality, Eboni sneered.

"What," she said. "Are you apologizing for him?"

"No," he said, voice hot in his frustration. "I'm sorry for being locked up in my own head, watching everything play out and not being able to do a thing to help you."

"Tell me about it," Eboni said.

Kai glared.

"No, really," she said, turning fully to face him. "What was it like, I'm curious."

He looked away.

"Just how much pain were you in, Kai? How torturous was it to watch it all happen? How _kind_ was that Fragment to you?"

He couldn't answer. The lump in his throat forbade him.

"Awh. Look at you." Her voice softened. "Guilt-ridden, aren't you?"

He couldn't look at her. He chewed his lip again, this time biting tears.

"Poor thing. It's hardly your fault." She sounded bitter. "At least you'll have that much to lean on, when you stop blaming yourself."

 _How dare you feel guilty,_ is what she meant.

How dare you regret something you didn't do as I stand here bearing the guilt of my own actions.

Kai wanted to apologize again—wanted to say something that would have meant something to her.

But he couldn't speak through the tears in his throat. Not without letting Eboni see how far she had pushed him.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I can't look at you and not think of him."

She wasn't talking about J'avi.

And she wasn't sorry, either. She apologized because she'd realized he was crying.

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to keep his lips from trembling, wishing she would just leave.

Because there was nothing either of them could say, now.

All either of them could seem to do was blame themselves.

 _Pathetic,_ the familiar voice started to say.

But it couldn't finish whatever poisonous thought it had prepared before Kai awoke to a remembrance of himself.

"I'm not going to do this," he said suddenly.

Snow drifted soundlessly into their hair and alighted on their shoulders. Eboni remained silent, but he knew she was glaring at his back.

So he stood up straight and wiped his eyes. He took a breath, composed himself; squared his shoulders and his thoughts at once.

"I'm not going to do this," he said again, with conviction. "I'm not going to trap myself here."

"Trap yourself where?" Eboni said, pretending like she didn't know what he was talking about. "On this ship, with these people? These damn do-gooders?"

"Here," Kai repeated, and he turned to look at her. "With you."

She fell silent again.

"Kicking myself for everything I couldn't control. Blaming myself for the pain that I didn't ask for, trapped in a spiraling cycle of misery and guilt. Like you."

She didn't answer. Only watched him, expression unchanging.

Kai's eyes burned again, because the look on her face was one of hot, angry, yet cold and lonely pain—and he couldn't stand it.

"I can't stand it," he said aloud, and that was as far as he got.

"Can't you?" Eboni said dryly. "Can't take the pain? You'll sit this one out, huh, big boy?"

Kai swallowed his indignation, tasting regret instead.

"I wish you wouldn't do this, Eboni," he whispered.

"Oh, do what?" she snapped. "What am I supposed to do? Roll over, let you give me belly rubs? Wag my damn do-gooder tail like nothing's wrong? Like it's nothing? Is this _nothing_ to you, Kai?"

"It's everything to me," he said. "But I'm not going to let it destroy me inside and out. I couldn't control what J'avi did to me, just as much as you couldn't control what Soren did to you."

She shut her mouth.

Kai softened.

"I'm not sure how," he began. "I don't know if I deserve it, either. But I know I don't want this despair anymore."

"How poetic."

"I hate to see you do this to yourself," he tried to say. His heart weighed his voice, made it unsteady.

She shook her head, warning him not to continue.

She didn't want to hear it.

"Aren't you done with the pain?" he said, and started to cry again. "Aren't you sick of this? This is _not your fault_ , Eboni. Aren't you finished telling yourself it is?"

He saw a glitter in her eyes. A longing to reach out and take Kai's hand—or at least take a hold of his hope.

It was there, when she looked at him, but it was such a small glimmer amidst a whirling storm of despair.

And when he looked at her, he knew that she could see everything in his eyes. He could only hope it would be enough to kindle her own hope.

And it would have been enough; if she would have let it.

Eboni looked him square in the eye.

"No," she said coldly. "No, I'm not."

Despair returned with her words. But it wasn't his own despair, though that was still heavy on his heart, too—it was a little of Eboni's despair, he realized, which came to settle on his shoulders.

And a little of his, upon Eboni's.

 _Funny how that works,_ he thought, through his grief.

 _She may not choose to heal, but she will always remember that I did._

The Destiny's Bounty bumped against the mountain.

They'd landed.

Eboni looked at him. She looked like she wanted to say something.

Then she shut her mouth, letting her eyes tell him what she couldn't say—

That the love of that Fragment had _gutted_ her.

She wouldn't face him yet. It hurt to face Soren and admit she loved him; admit she loved a lie, even if it had become a truth.

She didn't want that vulnerability. Couldn't bring herself to fall apart in someone's arms.

Eboni didn't want to be loved.

She turned and padded away through the snow. After a moment, the door to the Bridge slide shut.

Kai stood alone on the deck.

Stood, wiping tears and forgiving Eboni for everything she'd said, and everything she wouldn't do, everything she wouldn't say for him, or for Soren, or for anyone else.

 _Look at you,_ the voice sneered at Kai—and he at last recognized it.

J'avi.

 _You're pathetic. You couldn't have done anything to stop Soren from loving her. You couldn't have done anything to take away_ that _pain._

 _But you just had to go love her yourself, didn't you?_

 _Can't you see that's the_ last _thing she wanted?_

Kai groaned, but pushed J'avi with all the strength he could muster.

 _Get out,_ he said. _I won't let you kill me._

 _But you'll let Eboni kill you?_ J'avi objected, shoving back. _That's hardly fair._

Kai gritted his teeth. _I won't let either of you kill me. Not anymore._

 _You're gonna fight me, huh?_ J'avi said—and Kai wasn't so sure his taunting voice was his imagination. _You'll have to fight_ her _, too._

"I'll fight in spite of her," he said aloud. "I'll fight _for_ her."

 _Cute. But I'm pretty damn sure she doesn't want you fighting for her, Romeo._

"Don't get me wrong, I'm fighting for myself. If it'll save her, fine—if it won't, fine. I'll still fight."

 _Ouch, Kai. You're heartless._

"From now on," Kai said, "you are unwelcome here. And if you try to stay, I'll force you out."

 _Ooh, you hear that!_ J'avi cackled. _He means it! Oh, help, I'm so afraid!_

Kai felt himself trembling.

Because _he_ was afraid—of J'avi—of slipping into the despair again—of losing hold of this sudden and small conviction to escape.

"Kai!"

He opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them in the first place, and turned.

It was dark. He'd been standing out here for hours. The open doorway spilled gold out into the black snow.

Nya stood silhouetted there, incredulous.

"You still out there?" she called.

Kai shrugged.

"Come inside, dork," she said. "Quit moping."

 _Yeah, J'avi,_ Kai thought, and suddenly grinned. _Quit moping._

 _Oh, ho,_ J'avi said, grinning back. _I mean, you're not wrong._

And Kai made a point of kicking the snow with ridiculous vigor, sending mists of flakes to either side of him on his way to the door. It made Nya laugh, bewildered, and Kai laughed too.

* * *

 _"Prosper committed suicide?"_

 _"Attempted," London corrected._

 _"He survived?" Amilia clarified, through her fingers._

 _"Yes."_

 _"Barely," Lou said. "If not for Gahiji, he wouldn't have."_

 _"Dear Spinjitzu Master," Azamat breathed. "Why?"_

 _"Well, why do you think?" Amilia said. "It's not like anything's happened in his life to make him mentally unstable. Think, what with everything he's done—allowing himself to feel even an iota of guilt might be enough to drive him to the edge."_

 _"Amilia," Azamat said, looking sick._

 _"Not to mention the state of his soul. He Fragmented himself. Putting himself back together again—and if he were to retain all their memories? He'd be trying to mush three peoples' brains together."_

 _"Amilia, please."_

 _"Sorry. Just saying."_

 _He glared at her. "Insensitive, much?"_

 _She glared back. "I'm just trying to understand."_

 _"It's alright."_

 _They both glanced at Lou. His eyes were dark, but he nodded at Amilia._

 _"He does feel guilt," he said. "Thousands of years of it. Ever since the night he was made Whole. I can't believe he's lasted this long."_

 _"I'll say," Amilia said. "Suicide would seem like a reasonable option. That kind of guilt would kill a person without a Fragmented soul."_

 _"Oh, shut up," Azamat snapped._

 _"Excuse you," she snapped back. "No one decides to end their own life without a deal of deliberation and pain. I'm just trying to understand where he's coming from—"_

 _"Oh, well you're sure tactless about it, aren't you—?"_

 _"Azamat."_

 _London set a hand on Azamat's knee, silencing them both._

 _"It's alright," she said._

 _Azamat glared at her. There were tears in his eyes._

 _"It's alright," she said again, quieter; rubbing his knee as he looked away, covering his trembling lip with one hand. "Hey, it's alright. He's alright."_

He's alright.

 _The words set both of them at ease. Azamat wiped his eyes; Amilia softened, closing her eyes and muttering silent relief._

 _The rain on the kitchen window seemed to drench and muffle their voices. It made them heavy, soaked them until they dripped with the numb grief of someone mourning another's suffering._

 _Lou and London explained how they had found Prosper at the foot of a mountain, just ten minutes after the attempt. That Gahiji's Element had Healed the mangled body, but could not fix the soul—at least not immediately. That they had spent the nights camped in a tent as far from that mountain as they could get, nursing Prosper back to health._

 _"I've never seen a man—" London started._

 _She cut herself off. Cleared her throat._

 _Lou, squeezed her hand, watching her with sad eyes._

 _"I've never seen a man so consumed by guilt," London finished, her voice unsteady. "He denies himself a will to live because he does not believe he deserves one. He denies himself food, water, basic human needs, because he feels guilty that he is_ alive _. The man_ wants _to suffer, dammit, and half of me wants to agree with him."_

 _Yet another silence._

 _"And the other half?" Azamat said._

 _London shook her head. She wiped her eyes._

 _"We watched him grieve," she said hoarsely. "We were with him—we talked with him, as he suffered through one of the darkest weeks for him since that night in Jamanakai—I just know it was. The things he said to us..."_

 _Her eyes became flaming flint._

 _"I wouldn't wish the pain that I saw him bear upon the vilest being in existence."_

 _A chill ran up Amilia's arms._

 _"He doesn't need a hand of judgement; all the judgement he could ever need is self-supplied. More than he can stand. But whether or not he wants one, he needs a hand of love."_

 _She relaxed. She sat back in her seat, looking exhausted. Almost meditative._

 _"Which is why," she said, "we left Gahiji there with him."_

 _"Right," Azamat said numbly. "Master of Love."_

 _"Right. We think he can fix at least some things. I can't bear to think of Prosper enduring that kind of pain a moment longer."_

 _The pain London was talking about—Prosper's despair—it held a dull place in London's eyes. Lou's, too._

 _But it was more than that._

 _Amilia looked at them, and realized that somehow, they had forgiven Prosper._

 _They carried his burden with him. Mourned with him; eased the pain by carrying some of it upon their shoulders._

 _And when she looked at Azamat, she saw that he carried it. His green eyes clouded, head down, under the weight of Overlord's guilt._

 _And Amilia would carry it, now, too._

 _Afraid of the idea, she became indignant._

 _Why should she carry that for him? She didn't know Prosper. She didn't know someone who had learned to love everyone they had ever hurt, until the guilt of what they had done to them drove them to try to kill the memory of it. To try to kill the hands that had committed the murder._

 _She didn't know someone who loved another enough to risk their life for them, to turn their back on everything they knew for them, and to shun everything else that they had loved before—for the one they truly loved._

 _At least, in that moment, she forgot that she did._

 _Was the Overlord different? Had he gone too far to deserve forgiveness, even if he should completely reverse his actions and live every day of the rest of his life devoted to doing good?_

Has this man rendered himself irredeemable? _she wondered._

 _"Of all the people to rescue from their suicidal depression," she said, not meaning much by it except irony. "I never imagined it would be the Overlord."_

 _A beat._

 _"Of all the people to shun a former enemy," London said stiffly. "A girl who has seen the transformation of Krovimastaa should know better."_

 _Rebuked, Amilia shut up._

 _London was right._

 _She could not label Prosper irredeemable without labelling Gahiji likewise._

 _So what did that make Prosper?_

 _... well, a bit pathetic, honestly._

 _He'd die to escape himself rather than search for that redemption._

 _But she wasn't about to say so, even if it was true._

 _Because now, she had a bit of Prosper's pain resting on her shoulders._

 _About time, too—_

 _He'd carried the weight of hers for a long time._


End file.
